


Falling for Make Believe

by flickerthenflare



Series: All Your Life You'll Dream of This [4]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 07:45:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3201128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flickerthenflare/pseuds/flickerthenflare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Prince Blaine are reunited at a Valentine’s Day gala, which is the closest Kurt expects he’ll ever get to a modern day ball and perfect for confessing his feelings – if he can work up the courage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling for Make Believe

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for secondhand embarrassment, underage drinking, and talking about vibrators.

Despite Kurt’s efforts to not obsess over the upcoming gala, worry and elation settle permanently under his skin from the moment he receives Prince Blaine’s invitation. The gala, an arts education fundraiser that will be attended by multiple members of the royal family, is Kurt’s opportunity to see if the flirty texts between him and Blaine and preoccupation with each other’s wellbeing can become more. His heart has yet to return to a normal rate.

Rachel’s dads also score an invitation to the gala, and it takes very little pleading on Rachel’s part for her dotting fathers to agree that she can attend as well.

On the day of the gala, they sequester themselves in Kurt’s room to get ready. Nearly every article from Kurt’s typically pristine closet is flung on the bed in search of fashion perfection that will make him stand out from a crowd without seeming like a desperate cry for attention.

“I keep picturing a ball,” Kurt admits. “The invitation said there wouldn’t be dancing.” Actually, Blaine told him directly that there wouldn’t be dancing, but Kurt has yet to tell Rachel about meeting the prince. So far, only his dad and Carole know, and for his dad the news that his son has kept a strange friendship with a prince a secret for the better part of a year is still fresh.

“You keep picturing him whisking you away.” Rachel smiles knowingly.

Kurt flashes a guilty smile. He doesn’t have that much longer before he can get out of his small town with small minds on his own, but the fantasy is just as tempting as it was a year ago.

Kurt tilts and turns in the mirror until he has inspected every angle. His hands smooth over the slim fit.  This is the one. This is what he will wear when he confesses what will one day be love to Blaine.

“I think it says something about our relationship that I trust you to not make me look like a clown hooker again.” Rachel twirls in her own ensemble. Her hand rises to touch her styled hair.

Kurt swats Rachel’s hand away. “You look beautiful.”

“You too!” She leans into a hug. Kurt still isn’t used to the way she happily invites herself into his space, but he belatedly hugs her back. “Prince Blaine isn’t going to know what hit him.”

Kurt hums noncommittally. Much like he hasn’t decided what to say Blaine, he hasn’t committed to telling Rachel the full story as to how he scored an invitation. Maybe Rachel doesn’t have to know. Kurt agreed to discretion on Blaine’s behalf. He’s kept mum on the most fantastical story of his life – with princes and disguises and almost but not quite getting what you wish – despite longing to gossip about the royal family with Rachel like they used to in the very founding of their friendship.

“We should say hi if we get anywhere close to him. This is your one chance so don’t be too shy. If I ask for a picture with him, will you do it?” Rachel asks.

On the one hand, it’s embarrassing and he aims to be Blaine’s friend, not devoted fan. On the other, he would love a picture of them together to confirm his unlikely friendship with Blaine is real.

“If you only have one chance to meet someone, you should run to it,” Rachel presses. “How often does royalty come to somewhere as unimportant as here?”

About once a year, it seems.

Rachel holds out her hand with a knowing smile. “We shouldn’t let our dads talk too much longer. Let’s go to the ball!”

“It’s a gala,” Kurt corrects, then follows her dash down the stairs with only slightly more restraint so as not to muss his hair.

Burt and the Berrys get along famously and are still talking about cars when Rachel and Kurt emerge.

“One moment before you go, Kurt.” Burt motions for Kurt to step aside with him and let the Berrys admire Rachel’s gown.

Kurt humors his dad for the sake of escaping to the gala as soon as possible and keeps his groan internal.

“I know you expect another lecture from me, but you already know everything I have to say on the subject, so much so that I’m going to let you imagine it yourself. You think I’m being over-protective, and I think I’m being the right amount of protective, and this isn’t a new concept in parenthood. You’re going to think anything I have to say on the subject is a cliché.”

“Thanks for understanding, Dad.”

His dad doesn’t stop there. “You’ve got a good imagination, so you can just keep on imagining me all night telling you what you’d think I’d say. Telling you to be smart.”

Kurt sighs. Maybe if he hadn’t kept Blaine a secret, his dad would trust him more. What he wouldn’t give for his father’s concern about his relationship with Blaine to be justified.

“I know you idolize him, but be your own best fan.”

“I already am.” Liking himself best, and far more than others do, might be the very root of his conflicts with his peers. No matter what anyone else says or implies or how they try to change him, Kurt thinks he’s pretty great. He just has to remind himself of that confidence when asking Blaine for a real date.

“And I’ll always be your second, kid.” Burt shakes his head fondly.

Kurt expects more to the lecture about how Prince Blaine isn’t Kurt’s fairytale come true, but instead he gets a hug and a push toward the door.

“Don’t forget your curfew!” Burt calls.

***

Isabelle carefully knots Blaine’s bow tie snug against his throat. He could do it himself – goodness knows he has practice tying a bow tie – but tonight his image is in her care. The hall will fill with people in a few short hours. The thought thrills Blaine. All those people to meet and impress and entertain, and who knows who they’ll be.

Blaine takes advantage of having both hands free to type a quick text to Kurt. He thinks of Kurt frequently, but his busy schedule has kept them from seeing each other again until now. He wonders if Kurt is less lonely now. If the bully Blaine tried to scare off is well and truly gone. If Kurt still worries about the story coming out and making both their lives more difficult like Blaine does. If Kurt still blushes furiously at being close to royalty. There’s only so much Blaine can learn from texts.  

“I'm going to be insulted if you keep going to this boy for advice instead of me,” Isabelle teases warmly. 

Blaine turns his phone face down but clutches it tight so he'll know the moment Kurt responds and looks up as the perfect picture of innocence. Fashion is an excellent excuse to demand Kurt’s attention, and Kurt gives his opinions freely, if perhaps unnecessarily with Isabelle on staff to provide for the fashion wellbeing of the entire royal family.

“Am I making you handsome for anyone in particular?” Isabelle asks as she moves on to taming flyaway curls.

Blaine sighs heavily in response. “Valentine’s Day is mocking me.” As much as Blaine longs to be treated as the almost-legal adult he is, he can’t help his flair for the dramatic. “It’s a day for love, and I can’t… I want to be in love. I know that’s not what this event is about, or what I’m supposed to focus on. I have other responsibilities that have to come first. But I want it so bad.”

He intends to stop himself from carrying on - palace gossip has made almost employee aware of his agreement with the king for marriage equality throughout the kingdom once he falls in love but it’s not something he should discuss – but Emma stops him first.

“Blaine, I’d like you to have a stock answer for questions you don’t want to answer,” Emma instructs, watching in bemusement.

“I don’t mind!” Blaine shrugs cheerfully. He’s grateful he gets along so well with his support team, and that he has professionals to round out his ragtag team of sympathetic guards and relatives from his days of sneaking out. They have a system: Emma looks out for his public appearance, while Isabelle fusses over his physical one. They’re gentle, which Blaine appreciates, treating him fondly and their work seriously.

“I don’t want you to answer,” Emma corrects with a delicate smile.“Don’t give so much of yourself away tonight. This isn’t a children’s hospital. There will be hundreds of people waiting for an opportunity to speak with you, and they can share what you say with more than just their nurses. Don’t be nervous, and don’t stop being charming, but show some… _restraint_. They’ll still love you if they don’t know your deepest darkest secrets.”

“I don’t have dark secrets,” Blaine insists.

“One day, your highness.” Isabelle smiles conspiratorially at him in the mirror. “Once you get what you want.”

His fantastic fantasy life is only too eager to picture it, although there will be no clandestine love affairs for him. No secrets at all if he can help it. He’ll have a picture perfect romance. The kind that inspires both envy and hope.

There is little he can do besides daydream at this point. He rarely meets anyone his own age, putting his search for true love on a temporary, unofficial hiatus, but the more he proves himself as a level-headed future leader brimming with potential, the more freedom he'll be granted, and the sooner he can renew his search.  

One day.

Sam stands at the doorway in formalwear instead of his usual guard uniform. In an incomprehensible impression, he asks, “Ready for your close up, Mr. Too Royal To Have a Last Name?”

Isabelle beckons Sam inside. “Let’s see about doing something about this hair to help you blend in before you go.”

“Santana doesn’t have to blend in,” Sam grumbles but tromps over towards Isabelle and plops down into the chair.

“Being beautiful _is_ how she blends in. Nothing pulls more focus than a woman who dares to be ugly. People will talk of nothing else.” Isabelle works product into his long blond hair and gently styles it out of his face.

With a wince and one eye screwed closed, Sam says to Blaine, “Hey, so, you might want to check in on Wes before you get sucked into meet and greets. He kinda crashed and burned spectacularly on the romance front and I think he’s still spiraling. I felt bad but I couldn’t look away. It was just like…” Sam proceeds to make an extended series of airplane noises accompanied by hand motions that narrowly avoid colliding with Isabelle. “He probably saw something that wasn’t there. I mean, everyone wishes they had a chance with Santana.”

“Oh god.” Blaine has seen Santana destroy people. Sam briefly dated her and it was a disaster - she forgot they were dating half a dozen times before they officially broke up and by that point Sam was grateful to be put out of his misery. No wonder Sam summoned his help.

“She screamed something about how he ruined everything, but he’s really good at apologizing profusely, so I think they’ll be okay.”

Blaine winces. Heartbroken on Valentine’s Day sounds terrible. He didn’t know Wes even had a crush on Santana. Dealing with rejection is more Cooper’s area of expertise, but Blaine is good at nodding and looking sympathetic, and Cooper has his own Valentine’s Day plans, so Blaine will do what he can to cheer Wes.

“By all means, don’t let me hold you back from reveling in someone else’s drama.” Isabelle gives Sam’s shoulders an encouraging squeeze and a gentle push out of the chair.

With a called out _thank you_ to Isabelle, Blaine chases Sam out of the room. Emma follows them both at a respectable pace.

Instead of finding Wes, Blaine finds his parents in the extravagantly decorated but empty venue. His father is here as a result of gentle prodding on his mother's part, as Prince Anderson avoids all non-mandatory public appearances. It's the top source of bickering in their relationship, and today is no exception.

“April Rhodes is not a clever woman, dear. She's not going to snare you in a verbal trap if you agree to do an interview for _Entertainment Magazine_ while they’re here.” Princess Mila takes her husband's hand and squeezes to quiet the hesitation they all know he feels. 

“One scandal is enough for a lifetime,” Prince Anderson insists firmly. An undercurrent of panic mars his calm exterior. In all of Blaine’s life, he has never seen his father go to an interview willingly.

“Emma thinks it's a good idea to get you back into practice speaking to the press.”

“Of course she does.”

“My father is not going to be around forever. What would you have me do then, when there’s no way to hide in the background? Give it all up? You promised you'd never ask that of me.”

“I know the life I signed up for.”

Blaine watches uncomfortably. If his parents argue, it’s almost never with an audience – they both care too much about their image for that. Blaine is sensitive to even the slightest displeased tone between them because it always means so much more.

“Ravi…”To the public he’s Prince Anderson, as unusual as having, never mind _keeping,_ a last name is for royalty. His first name sounds intimate. Imploring. “It's Valentines Day. It's the perfect time. Come be in love with me for the world to see. You don't have to be afraid. _Entertainment Magazine_ doesn’t staff hard-hitting journalists. They hardly staff _journalists_.”

Her husband doesn’t relent. “You don't need me for this. There will be dozens of photos of me looking madly in love with you this evening, and no requirement I say the right thing.”

Princess Mila scowls, her patience for pleading used up. “Fine. Blaine will do it.”

Blaine startles to attention, standing straighter. Despite all the events he has attended by his mother’s side, he has yet to speak directly to the press. “You trust me?”

“Don't you dare use our son as a bargaining chip.” Prince Anderson’s sharp tone is reserved for scolding his sons. Blaine has never heard it directed toward his mom. Usually it’s for when he or Cooper have done something to upset her.

“Blaine will be perfectly charming. It's his job.”

“Who knows what they’ll do to him. They have enough fodder already.” At Blaine’s crestfallen expression, his father sighs and adds, “Don’t. Don’t twist what I mean. This is about your best interest. Everything about you is a weapon in their hands.”

Prince Anderson’s distrust of the media is legendary, as is his reason for it. Gossip about his failed first marriage to Cooper’s mom, and what his intentions for choosing a princess several years his junior for the second must be, filled the news cycle for a whole summer and then resurfaced on slow news days for years after.

Blaine remembers his unofficial first interview in Emma’s office, right after coming out, and Sue Sylvester’s promise to not make a fool of him since it wasn’t in her own best interest. April Rhodes has made her career off of idle gossip over martinis with Cooper, and self-preservation should force her to play nice with Cooper’s younger brother.

“I want to do the interview.” As soon as it’s an option, he wants it immensely. “She’s already written dozens of articles about me. This way I'll have some control.”

“That's what they want you to think,” Prince Anderson mutters. To Princess Mila he says, “He’s too young. You can protect him longer than this.”

“It’s what he wants. It’s why he’s not sneaking out anymore, which, I remind you, you didn’t want to do anything about despite how disastrous that could have been. I’ll be there to make sure the interview goes smoothly. I’m not 22 and naïve anymore. I know what I’m doing.”

There’s no winning this fight. They can both see she’s not giving in. He spins on his heel with a weary, “Do what you will.”

“I hardly need your permission!” She tells his turned back. She drops her head to her hand, massaging her temple. Even in her distress, she’s careful not to smudge her makeup.

Blaine is torn between comforting one and running after the other. He has no prior experience dealing with an argument between them like this. Blaine sees in his mom the familiar flash of guilt that he gets whenever he hasn’t behaved to his own standard of perfection.

“You really can’t say anything stupid now. I mean _really_. I won’t be proven wrong.”

“I’ll try my hardest.” His voice wobbles slightly. Divorce is unheard of in the royal family, but so were blended families like his until his parents broke from tradition. He knows enough of his parents’ lives before he was born to know that rumors of divorce started even before they were married.

She drops her the hand at her temple to squeeze his. At Blaine’s stricken look, she says, “Don't worry - we'll forgive each other eventually.”

***

Rachel and Kurt arrive at the nicest party Kurt has ever been to, including the wedding he planned for his father. The gala takes place at a golf club on theoutskirts of town. It's surprisingly gorgeous - Kurt didn't think Lima had nice things. There are centerpieces and waiters and everyone looks elegant instead of like they have been forced into good clothes against their will.

Rachel bounces on Kurt’s arm. “Look at all of this! This is as well connected as Lima gets. Do you think I’ll meet a wealthy patron? How does one go about finding a wealthy patron? Is there a stage? I’ll settle for a microphone. How quick do you think their security is? I bet if I could get through the first 16 bars they wouldn’t have the heart to stop me after that.”

There is a stage, with a podium and a woman speaking, and Kurt is feeling benevolent enough that he doesn’t want to reign in Rachel’s get famous schemes completely. “Wait on getting us kicked out until after I see Prince Blaine, okay?”

Rachel and Kurt wind around the silent auction tables, largely tuning out the speeches on the main stage in favor of keeping their eyes on the crowd. Kurt commits the scene to memory to get him past all the times he’d rather forget. His own fantasies aren’t this spectacular.

Rachel pokes Kurt’s side when she spots Blaine from a distance. “Do you see? Is that him? That’s him, right? Look at those curls. He’s so tiny! Compared to people who aren’t me, that is. Oh, it’s so weird seeing him in person. Why are you still listening to me – go over there! You have to say something!”

Kurt stands still against Rachel’s shooing. He wants Blaine to see him. He wants to see Blaine’s true reaction to him, not a reaction to a reaction.

In a hushed whisper he tells Rachel, “If the prince comes over, I need you to go away.”

Rachel laughs in delight. “There’s the self-confidence you need!”

Blaine turns and Kurt’s heart catches in his throat. He can’t hear a thing besides its pounding. His waiting is finally over.

Blaine breaks out in a grin. With a grip on his companion’s arm, Blaine wraps up his niceties and bounds to take Kurt in one of the better hugs of his life.

Rachel looks on in shock.

“Kurt! I’m so glad you came!” Blaine’s chin tucks over Kurt’s shoulder, prolonging their embrace more than Kurt dares to dream. “You have to tell me everything I’ve missed.”

“You look older.” Kurt says dumbly. Blaine’s hug knocks the wind and the sense out of him.

“Oh, have you not seen a newsstand all year?” Blaine teases, eyes warm and friendly.

It’s different when Blaine is in front of him. Almost every day Kurt sees Blaine, whether in magazines or news articles or, on rare but treasures occasions, in texted pictures of whatever Blaine is wearing while seeking fashion advice. In person, however, Kurt expects the Blaine from a year ago. His mental image has not caught up with what he sees. Blaine is more comfortable in himself and with being seen, more outgoing, the rawness more polished. 

Blaine steps back far enough to take in Kurt. “You’re taller.”

“Oh, you missed that article?” Kurt teases faintly in return.

“I’m sure I would have read it.”

Rachel ignores Kurt’s instructions to leave, her head tilted in impatience and confusion. “Your highness, could I have a picture, please?”

“Oh my god, of course!” Blaine sounds even more excited to meet her than she is to meet him. “What’s your name?”

“Rachel’s my best friend,” Kurt explains by way of introductions.

Rachel holds her hand over her heart and swoons at Kurt instead of the prince, which alleviates some of Kurt’s guilt over the title that is usually reserved for Mercedes. He has never called Rachel his best friend aloud, but he can have more than one best friend if he wants, and his friendship with Rachel has been unexpected and strange but also something he treasures.

To Blaine, Rachel says, “I’m here with my two gay dads.”

“You’ll have to introduce us later.” Blaine holds Rachel in a warm sideways hug facing the camera phone Rachel shoves into Kurt’s hands. Kurt snaps the picture with a twinge of unwarranted jealousy at how comfortably they touch. 

“You two next,” Rachel insists sweetly with a wink at Kurt.

Kurt shakes his head no, but then Blaine’s arm is around Kurt’s waist and Kurt’s desire to act like a friend instead of a fan dies. Blaine hugs Kurt to his side with the same generous smile.

“Text me that later, please. You too, Rachel. Any friend of Kurt’s is a friend of mine, and if I’m lucky some of your luminosity will have rubbed off on me in our picture.”

Rachel is completely charmed. She squeezes Kurt’s hand so hard it hurts.

Rachel and Kurt aren’t the only ones who want their moment with a prince memorialized. Another pair of friends approaches. “Could we get a picture?”

“Absolutely!” Blaine beams.

A stranger’s camera is shoved into Kurt’s hands. Kurt falters. His time can’t be up already. He needs more time – he can’t just blurt out his feeling within 30 seconds of seeing Blaine for the first time in a year. But it’s already someone else’s turn. A small crowd forms. Blaine asks names and poses for pictures and Kurt can’t help but feel jilted as he waits awkwardly to the side, hoping Blaine’s attention will return to him but uncertain if it will.

Blaine squeezes Kurt’s hand and it’s more soothing than Rachel’s tight grip from a moment before. “Don’t go. Please stay right there. I’ll be back. And then I want to hear everything.”

Kurt nods in wordless agreement and lets Blaine go.

Rachel is unaffected by Kurt’s disappointment and laughs in delight. “What was that? I need you to tell me _immediately_ what you have been hiding from me. Did he say _text me_? I can’t believe you have the ability to text our hottie of a future king and didn’t tell me about it! That’s something you’re supposed to share with your _best friend_ , Kurt!”

Rachel launches herself into his arms. Kurt expects it this time and catches her in her fiercely tight hug, although his focus will remain on Blaine as long as he’s in sight.

“Did you see how he made a beeline to you? It's like a fairytale. An actual fairytale come true. Tell me the whole story and start with ‘once upon a time.’”

Kurt answers once he’s done watching Blaine disappear into the crowd.

***

The crowd follows Blaine wherever he goes. Blaine poses for photographs and shakes hands, earnest and eager to impress. He's by far the most well known gay celebrity in the kingdom, and he will be the kindest. He needs to fall in love to change the law, but hearts and minds he will change all on his own. He leaves each person he talks to thoroughly charmed.

He’s also careful to follow Emma’s instructions to not open up too much about himself. He keeps conversations light, quick, and focused on whomever he’s talking to.

He poses for so many pictures he sees flashes even after looking away. He twists and turns blindly through the crowd and finds himself face to face with his cousin.

“Wes!” Blaine pulls him into a hug as well. “We were looking for you.”

Santana hovers protectively close to Wes. Her darks eyes flit to each potential danger in the crowded hall. Blaine waves and she responds by rolling her eyes. His smile falters. Usually they’re on good terms. He can’t think of what he could have done to offend her other than be related to Wes.

Sam catches up a moment later, never far behind. “I told Blaine about your…” Sam mimes more dramatic airplane crashes. “What were you thinking?"

Blaine signals for Sam to lower his voice. Sam belatedly realizes Santana can hear him and shrugs apologetically in her direction.

Wes seems in his usual spirits when he responds, “We're friends. We get along. I realize now it was a mistake to want to change our friendship and with time we'll forget that I ever asked.” 

“How zen of you.” Sam nods.  

Wes arches a mildly disapproving eyebrow at Sam. “Better a mild disappointment now than heartache and a ruined friendship later. If you’ll excuse me.”

Wes greets someone else and Santana follows close behind.

Sam shakes his head. "Man, I don't know if I could even pretend to be that cool.”

Blaine doesn’t think he could be either. Blaine wears his heart on his sleeve. If Blaine were going through heartache, he’s sure the whole kingdom would notice.

“I don’t get it. She’s all about money, which your family has, and he’s hotter than me, and he’s always super nice to her.”

Blaine pats Sam’s shoulder reassuringly. “Are you taking it personally that she dated you and not him?”

“Plus, think of all the attention. Like, kingdom-wide attention. Magazine cover kind of attention. Why would she say no to that? Even if she wasn’t into him, you’d think she’d be into that. One minute you’re no one and the next everyone knows who you are and has an opinion on things like whether you have bangs and takes polls on if you need to lose weight.”

“Not everyone wants the attention.” His dad is evidence enough.

“Those weren’t the best examples. I should’ve said free designer clothes. And fansites. Who wouldn’t want a website dedicated to bringing together people from all over the world to talk about how amazing you are? I’m telling you, it doesn’t make sense.”

Sometimes Sam blurs the line between security detail and private detective. Captain Beiste usually talks him down eventually. “Just let it go.”

“But it’s weird!” Sam insists while Blaine leads him away.

***

The night wears on. The tea lights on the tables sink in on themselves. The room is warm from so many bodies pressed close.Blaine resurfaces in the crowd a few times and waves Kurt’s way with an eager look that makes Kurt feel his failure even more keenly. Blaine never stays still long enough for Kurt to force out what he wants to say.

“Try to look less like you're going to hurl,” Rachel coaches, helpful as always. “That’s a sure way to ruin meeting a prince.”

His nerves aren't from meeting Blaine again but from what he wants to say. Figuring out what to say, more specifically, because he still has no clue.

“Here - liquid courage.” Rachel pushes a champagne flute toward him.

“Where did you get that? Your _dads_ are here.”

“Waiter who is either bad at guessing age or hitting on one of us. Drink it quickly.” She raises the glass in toast. “Cheers!”

It’s a testament to how close they've become that Kurt willingly raises the glass to his lips after she drinks from it. It tickles and he chokes back a wince.

Rachel giggles and coughs. “That felt less fancy than I hoped.”

Only after drinking the champagne does he remember that it'll make him more likely to hurl. 

“Don’t look so worried! I’m pretty sure he was flirting. I mean, everything he says sounds flirty, but especially when he’s talking to you.”Rachel pushes the empty glass aside. “Show me what else he’s said? We'll go through your texts for ideas."

She wants to go through what they've said, period, but Kurt is happy to oblige. Maybe it’s the champagne taking hold already. He likes his privacy, but he also likes that she cares so much about his silly crush.

Kurt scrolls through his texts with Blaine. Blaine initiates conversations more often, which Kurt thinks is good, but also can be attributed to Blaine pouring all his efforts into helping the one troubled gay teen he knows. He scrolls past debates on televised singing competitions, variations on ‘courage’ and pleading Kurt to let him know how to help, and friendly arguments over their favorite aging divas until he finds a text he’s willing to share.

_I'm once again wearing the clothes I stole from you! :D :D :D_

Rachel angles the phone Kurt won’t let her take from his hands. “I appreciate his use of exclamation points.”

“And emoticons?” Kurt’s laugh is choked off by the realization that Blaine and Rachel have the same enthusiastic texting style. 

Kurt angles the next text he’s willing to share toward her.

_What about you? Send me fashion inspiration?_

“Oh my god.” Rachel makes another grab for his phone.

Kurt preens at the confirmation that it’s not all in his head. It’s a limited view of their relationship, though. Blaine has treated him like a best friend from the day he rifled through Kurt’s glove compartment and helped himself to Kurt’s wardrobe. That should work in Kurt’s favor, and it’s encouraging, but possibly not unique to Kurt. From watching Blaine tonight, it seems like Blaine wants everyone to be his best friend.

There are a few selfies of Blaine looking sweetly up at the camera asking about his outfit that Kurt lets her see next. Rachel coos at the pictures and then laughs after scrolling through several. "That little minx - he's showing off!"

“He is?”

“Look at how he's standing - he's not asking you if he looks alright; he's reminding you he's hot.” 

Kurt holds the phone closer. Blaine looks amazing, but he always looks amazing. Kurt likes to imagine more to Blaine’s motivation for sending the pictures than just fashion, but he’s biased in his own favor.

“He composed every single one of these. He’s so into you. Now you just have to let him know how into him you are! It’ll be so romantic if you do it right. Try it out right now with me.”

Kurt resists with a shake of his head.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting stage fright.”

“Maybe it’s too soon.”

“Don’t talk yourself out of this! Like any audition, you have to practice.”

Kurt stifles a giggle at the mental image of standing on a stage with Blaine in the audience, announcing to the large empty space, _I’m Kurt Hummel, and I’m auditioning for the role of Prince Blaine’s boyfriend_ before breaking out in song. ~~~~

“What are you even asking him? Have you decided that yet? Is it ‘I think we should be boyfriends’? A seasonally appropriate but little too possessive ‘be mine’? An old fashioned ‘go steady with me’ that suits his style but might be dated? ‘I want to see you again’?”

“That one.” He wants to see Blaine again. He wants a reason to see Blaine. He wants to stop believing that each time he sees Blaine it could be his last.

“See, we are making progress! This is what best friends are for.”

“I should have never called you that,” Kurt says without malice.

Rachel smiles just as sweetly back at him. “I’ve never had a best friend before. You wouldn’t take that away from me even if I’m not very good at it.”

Maybe it’s the champagne, because Rachel is always the affectionate one, but Kurt shocks them both by pressing a kiss to Rachel’s cheek. Rachel beams like being someone’s best friend is all she ever wanted.

***

Someone always wants Blaine’s attention. They gather wherever he goes, close enough to listen in whenever he pauses to talk. Each waiting their turn but humming with barely contained energy. They call out his name and title each time he moves.

A few hours into working the crowd and Blaine is exhausted but still trying his hardest to be the most likable person they’ll ever meet. The best gay icon he knows so many need. A mixed-gender gaggle of teenagers thanks him in overlapping personal stories of how his coming out video affected them.  He struggles to follow it all, and at least one struggles with what to say, but he feels touched. He has found his purpose, the mark he can make. He has spent a year trying to grown up in his country’s eyes, and he feels like he’s finally on the right track. Maybe, if the gala goes well, he can make another push for a more politically charged public appearance next, like one that shows the royal family gives a damn about gay kids like Blaine promised they would.

Royal etiquette frowns on the way they reach for him. They are not supposed to touch so familiarly, but Sam isn’t one for enforcing rules unless he has to, and Blaine has no problem giving hugs after seeing Rachel’s delight at being treated like a friend instead of a stranger.

A yank on his arm pulls Blaine off his trajectory.

Blaine startles badly. Someone in the crowd apologizes profusely when Sam steps between them, and Blaine belatedly realizes she reached out for Blaine’s attention, not to cause him harm, which doesn’t soothe like he wants when his heart is beating in his throat.

“Perhaps we should switch,” Wes says wryly, interceding with a hand on Blaine’s shoulder and Santana by his side, guiding him away. Blaine thankfully doesn’t startle at the familiar touch. “You could use a bad cop.”

“And along the way we can braid each other's hair and talk about our core wounds,” Santana sasses. “So you won’t feel like you’re missing anything with Sam gone.”

“I’ll watch him better,” Sam grouses, trailing behind them.

Sam steers Blaine toward the most secluded corner the hall offers, and Blaine lets himself be guided in a daze. The crowd gives him a wider berth, watching him more closely than before to piece together what they just missed.

Blaine shakes his head to dislodge his unease. He's physically fine. It wasn't a real threat. He’s fine. No one is trying to harm him.

“Are you mad at me? I’ll totally watch you better, there’s just, like a million people here, and a lot of them really want to be close to you.” Sam guiltily hovers over him.

“Give me a moment?” He’s still out of sorts.

“Absolutely. Take a breather.”

They seclude themselves and watch the crowd.  Sam hovers protectively by his side.

He’s mad at himself for shutting down, and madder still for not being able to get over a brief scare and get back to working the crowd. He was doing so well.

At the front center of the hall Blaine’s parents twirl and hold each other with no regard for the lack of a dance floor, looking as in love as Prince Anderson promised they’d look. How they made up he doesn’t know, or how they plan to proceed.

Even with the argument, Blaine itches for what they have. Or some form of comfort.

Maybe seeing Kurt so infrequently makes him want to hold on. When he sees Kurt just a little ways away, giggling with his best friend, he reaches for Kurt without thinking and only a _May I…?_ as a warning. They’re at a gala, not a ball, but Blaine draws Kurt into his arms in a slow dance that resembles a clinging embrace or a clinging embrace that resembles a slow dance.

Blaine draws more attention than he deflects by dropping his chin into Kurt’s shoulder to hide the crowd from his sight. Kurt smells like hairspray and champagne. Blaine feels grounded again. Emma can scold him later for not being completely in control of his actions. At the moment, he wants nothing more than to stay here all night.

Kurt’s feet follow a half step behind. He rushes to catch up. “Everyone is watching.”

Blaine pulls back against Kurt’s hold at the hesitant words. “I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“I didn’t mean you should stop.” Kurt’s cheeks pinken. “Just because there’s not meant to be any dancing… Ignore my logical but insincere protests. This is nice.” Kurt gingerly touches Blaine’s shoulder, mirroring Blaine’s hand on his waist. “If anyone asks to cut in, I'm telling them no.”

“Please do. I'm so sorry I've barely seen you all night, and all year. Tell me everything.”

Kurt tenses and bites his lip.  Blaine can hear his heart pick up speed.

"Did I step on your foot?" Blaine asks.

Kurt responds in a rush, "No, no. I was thinking." He takes another pause. “I wanted to say…”

Emma hesitantly taps in. “Your highness, if I may have your attention for a moment?”

Wes stands behind her, telling Blaine exactly who is responsible for bringing in the professionals.

“I’m fine,” Blaine insists. “It was a misunderstanding.”

“ _Entertainment Magazine_ is here. We need to get this interview done before April Rhodes gets any more drinks in her.”

Blaine casts a glance back at his parents still holding each other in the center of the venue they claimed for a dance floor. Is this compromise or reconciliation? A show for _Entertainment Magazine_? It’s the image his mother wants to project, and requires no interaction with the press from his father.

“You can say no,” Emma reminds him. “Your mother will understand. She knows you’re still a bit young.”

Kurt looks adorably displeased at the potential interruption and even more adorably like he’s trying to hide it.

Blaine considers begging of. He'd much rather waste time with Kurt, swaying to a song he doesn’t know and pretending no one else matters. He won’t, though. He’s worn out from the long evening and the brief scare, but he fought for this opportunity.It’s the role he was born to play.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he promises Kurt once again.

Blaine struggles through the interview from the moment April Rhodes pinches his cheeks and tells him he’s the cutest thing ever. A dark mood settles over him at another rough, unwanted touch in such a short period of time. He feels himself failing. Feels more uncertain than he has in ages. He comes off timid in the interview too; he feels it happening but he can’t make it stop.

He’s supposed to be better than this. His mother warned him not to fail.

He completely doesn’t hear April’s next question over the sound of his internal berating and Princess Mila steps in to answer.

If he gets out of this interview unscathed, he’s going to reward himself. He’s going to make the rest of the evening his. He takes the moment while April Rhodes is occupied to regain his composure and school his features back to the perfect picture of attentiveness and charm.

When April Rhodes asks about Blaine’s love life next, he responds with a cheeky, “You’ll have to ask when I’m not standing next to my mother,” knowing full well Princess Mila will never let her get him alone, and calls it a win.

***

Rachel stashes her heels in her purse when she can’t stand them a second longer and lets her gown cover her bare feet. Her dads offer to take them home and they refuse adamantly. They’re not done with the night yet.

Kurt doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s bored by the gala. The music is nice, and looking at expensive silent auction items briefly entertained them as well, but he came to see Blaine. Getting swept off his feet by Blaine was nice, and terrifying, and too long ago.

“Tell me again what it feels like to dance with a prince,” Rachel insists to fill the silence. “Maybe I can channel it in auditions.”

“I’ve never felt so clumsy in my life.” After a beat he adds, “Also amazing.”

“And you said there wouldn’t be dancing,” Rachel says smugly.

Blaine bounds over without being interrupted, energy high and eyes bright. “I think we have a moment. I want more than 30 seconds this time and I think we have it.” Blaine takes Kurt by his arm and guides him toward the glass doors that lead outside, waving off Sam when he starts to follow.  “There’s something I want to say to you.”

Kurt lets himself be pulled. He dares to dream Blaine will be the first to confess. He glances back at Rachel, who gestures emphatically for him to smile.

“We'll just disappear for a moment,” Blaine reassures at the blast of cold air that greets them as they enter the outdoor garden.

“To talk,” Kurt agrees. His nerves show in his voice. He’s never asked out anyone before, much less his idol.

Blaine looks pleased with himself as he pushes the door shut behind them. “And finally no interruption.”

The garden is more romantic than the hall, even taking into consideration the tasteful themed Valentine’s Day decorations inside. Kurt’s not one of hundreds out here. The music is faintly audible, and the cold makes Blaine stand close to share warmth. Kurt shivers, but the warmth in Blaine’s eyes is enough to thaw him a little as well. The glass doors mean they’re not completely out of view, but it’s more private than Kurt could have hoped for.

He opens his mouth to speak, but Blaine beats him to it.

“Happy birthday!” Blaine slides a small box into Kurt’s hand.

“It was months ago,” Kurt says without thinking.

“And I didn’t get to wish it to you then, dummy. You can open it if you like.”

Kurt fumbles with the jewelry box, trying to be so careful through his excitement. He delicately picks up a brooch of a needle and a wispy thread looped through it.

“I thought it looked intricate enough to not count as kitsch, and you were wearing a brooch the day we met, so... Careful, I pricked my finger on it earlier. Thankfully, I’m still awake, and no dragons or towers appeared, but I guess that means no prince charming to rescue me either.” Blaine grins, adorably amused by his own joke.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you. May I?” Blaine plucks the brooch from its delicate box and pin it to Kurt’s lapel. Kurt’s heart beats rapidly underneath. “How does it feel to be a proper adult? Let me live vicariously through you. Tell me every dull, responsible detail.”

“You’re like reverse Peter Pan,” Kurt jokes. “Can’t wait to grow up.” Blaine has never mentioned his own birthday, but of course Kurt knows when it will be. He has a little while longer until it’s his turn.

“I don’t want to feel like a child anymore. I don’t want to be treated like a child.”

“I noticed.” Blaine has held himself like a mini-adult all evening up until now. Even when they first met, Blaine asked how he could make himself too older. The media frequently comments on how young he is, however, especially when he first came out. Some blamed his coming out video on his youth and poor concept of consequences. Some called it teenage rebellion. Others called him adorably naïve. He has grown up some since then, but he’s still never seen without a parent or a guardian.

Blaine leans back against the wall. His breath comes in puffs in the night air. “I just want to skip ahead, you know? Where I know what I’m doing and I’m in control of my life. At least once I’m 18 I’ll be able to say I’m an adult. Leave the palace on my own without sneaking out.” He looks to Kurt for agreement. “Do you know where I can get a fake ID?”

Kurt arches as eyebrow. “I thought you liked the charity circuit.”

“I do, but…”

“You’ll pick a dive bar where you’ll be recognized anyway over helping people?”

Blaine grumbles petulantly in response.

“I can swipe champagne from an unobservant waiter. Say the word and you can get this silly idea over with right now.”

“And let hundreds of people see it in my hand? Not to mention the press that’s here? It’s not the drinking. I don’t care about that.”

“So you really, really want to vote?” Kurt teases. “I bet there are easier ways for your voice to be heard in politics.”

“You’d think. Ugh, it’s been so long already and nothing’s _happened_.”

Blaine is cute when he pouts. Despite wanting to be treated like an adult, he’s whining like a child and Kurt suspects this is a side of the prince that few get to see.

“What I really want is … you know how I told you I wanted to change the conversation around marriage equality?” Blaine’s voice turns husky, means for Kurt’s ears only. “But that means finding someone. That’s not happening anytime soon. It’s lonely at the palace, and I just want–”

“– a soulmate.”

“– a vibrator.”

They speak in unison and Kurt blinks owlishly at Blaine. Surely he misheard.

“I mean, your thing would be nice too, but it’s not like I have any options on that front. I don’t even have the option of having options.”

Kurt’s building courage to tell Blaine how he feels crumples. _It’s not like I have any options_. He heard that much clearly. Blaine isn’t even considering him.

Disappointment gives way to irritation. “You’d sneak out of the palace to go _adult toy shopping_?”

Kurt can hardly believe his ears.  If Blaine were noticed, the story would be bought for a handsome sum and splashed over every gossip source in the kingdom. Kurt throws a glance over his shoulder to see if anyone is listening or watching through the glass door, because at least one of them should be aware of how damning this misadventure could be. He knows Blaine is younger than him - he knows every published fact about him – but he forgets that it matters sometimes, because Blaine has composure and presence in all his public appearances and Kurt's not meant to see moments like this where teenage whims show through.

“I’ve scandalized you!” Blaine laughs in amusement. He smiles playfully, and under different circumstances Kurt’s knees would buckle.

“You’re going to scandalize yourself.” Kurt is horrified. “I can find articles on what kind of breakfast cereal you like. You think you can keep this a secret?”

He wants to scold Blaine more for being so reckless – really it’s the paparazzi who’ll be reckless with him over something as base as teenage curiosity about sex and his own body, though Blaine will suffer the consequences – but Blaine already looks guilty.

“I can get things discretely but there’s a difference between private and discrete, and I wanted this to actually be private. I’ve snuck out before and it was fine. I just want to do one thing for me that doesn’t require half the kingdom’s approval.”

He’s wistful, and so young, and Kurt can’t help the words that come out of his mouth.

“Tell me what you want and I’ll do it.” Blaine did so much for him without knowing it, he gave Kurt _hope_ ; the offer for ‘personal’shopping seems silly and insignificant in comparison.

“You’ll do…Really?”

Kurt flushes at his misspoken offer. “I’ll get whatever you were going to get and bring it to you.”

“That’s such a kind offer!” Blaine sounds genuinely touched. He’s either raised to project sincerity or he’s actual touched by Kurt’s willingness to be a sex shop errand boy.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t get you a birthday gift.” Kurt is so profoundly uncomfortable at even the thought of following through on his offer. His skin prickles in the harsh cold and he’s grateful for the physical discomfort because rubbing warmth into his limbs gives him something to do with his arms.

“Let me pay you in advance. I’ll go get my wallet. You can bring me the change, or … it this an awkward instance to offer you get something for yourself with the change? Or keep it. It’s fine by me. Whatever is the least awkward scenario.”

Kurt boggles and then cuts Blaine off before he can mortify Kurt any more. “I’ll bring you the change.”

“I won’t ask. Whatever you want.”

Kurt can’t stop blushing. “Blaine. Stop offering.”

“Red’s a good color on you,” Blaine teases.

“Lies. You know I know better.” He looks good in red, but his face is meant to be far paler.

“It doesn’t have to be fancy. Just, you know, normal. I’d rather have something that seems real?” Blaine scrunches his nose adorably.

Kurt hums his understanding and looks everywhere but in Blaine’s direction.

“I’ll be back. Stay right there, okay?” At the puff of cold air, Blaine amends, “Maybe wait inside. But I’ll be back.”

Kurt stays in the cold until he’s numb trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

***

Blaine breaks away from the party to find his wallet. It takes a while since he has to cross the hall to get to it, and hours into the gala he still creates a crowd wherever he goes. He allows himself a long sigh of relief once another door is shut behind him. Every moment out there is like a moment on stage, and it’s been a long show.

Kurt, however, was the wonderful distraction Blaine hoped for.  Blaine gave up sneaking around, and he wasn’t good at it, but there was a thrill to it, and an immediate gratification that doesn’t come from exchanging pleasantries and avoiding saying anything about himself. Sneaking outside with Kurt satisfied that itch. Finally he had a moment to just be himself with the company of a good friend.

Blaine catches sight of Santana outside of the hall. She sits on the floor, back against the wall, without concern for her dress. Against his own self-preservation, he approaches.

“I don’t want to talk,” Santana warns.

“It’s your job to protect me. Don’t sabotage this for yourself,” Blaine says cheekily. Technically, her job is to protect Wes. She shouldn’t be out here without him.

Santana scowls at him with moderate heat. “If you’re going to be here, be _you_ , and not like an emissary for him.”

Blaine slides beside her. “Your job is not contingent upon anything beyond a professional relationship with Wes. If he didn’t make that clear…”

“Abundantly.” Santana’s lip curls. “In no way is Wes’ position as the fifth biggest fucking deal in the kingdom supposed to influence my decision to turn his ass down.”

“If it’s affected your ability to do your job…”

“I’m doing a better job than Sam. Exhibit A on why you can’t start off being nice to people. You bend the rules and they’ll break ‘em. You still spooked?”

“Something like that.” He’s still obsessing over what he did wrong in the back of his mind; he blames himself far more than he could blame Sam. He _likes_ being nice. Being friendly shouldn’t feel like a slippery slope.

“Well, now that you’re here I have an excuse for blowing off this party. Happy V-Day to the perpetually lonely.” Santana toasts an imaginary glass. Blaine clinks it with an imaginary one of his own.

“You don’t _have_ to be lonely.”

“Shut it. You don’t know. You just think you do because Sam can’t keep the biggest mouth in known human existence shut.” Santana focuses blankly on the wall. “Wes is like a decent person. What am I supposed to do with that? I could be all right – he’d feel lucky at first, even, and that’s not bragging, that’s a fact, I make a fantastic trophy – but it doesn’t end happy. One of us would be in tears, and it wouldn’t be me.”

“Sam is a good person too. You dated him.”

“Poor puppy. How’d that turn out for him? Put him down real good. I’m not doing that again. Makes me feel like I might be capable of feeling bad for someone else, and that’s not gonna happen.”

“Don’t be offended, but… why not do it for the attention? You love attention. You told us you wanted on the security team to get in the habit of being followed by paparazzi.”

“Sure, everyone would know my name, and I’d become an undeniable fashion icon, and girls would buy out all the silicone in the kingdom trying to look like me. And then once they know every last secret and the affair goes down in possibly literal flames, the only thing your people won’t believe about me is that I’m good for anything but a cautionary tale or a mean spirited laugh. I’m not going to light myself on fire and say that I’m a star.”

Blaine grimaces at the truth in Santana’s statement. The tabloids routinely search for royal family scandals, have a reputation for being vicious, and have had nothing close to a sex scandal to focus on in 20 years. Wes and Santana would definitely be the next big news story, and Santana would be at the center of their focus. Blaine will cause an even bigger splash when his time _finally_ comes. He doesn’t think it’s conceited to realize that. It’ll be the first royal gay love story. And while Wes isn’t much further down the line of succession than Blaine, Blaine is almost guaranteed to be king one day. Whoever Blaine marries will rule by his side, and marriage will always be at the forefront of his and the kingdom’s thoughts with whomever he dates, even without taking into consideration his “secret” agreement with the king. It’s an intimidating thought.

“We shouldn’t both be out here,” Wes says crisply to Blaine, startling Blaine and Santana from their thoughts.

Blaine stands. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

“There is no ‘us two,’” Santana corrects.

“There’s our friendship.” Wes offers a winning smile.

“Seriously, Blaine, this is what you’re leaving me with?” She’s not fast enough to hide the beginning of a smile.

Blaine takes a moment at the door, gathering energy to be the charming prince he needs to be. Santana and Wes’ voices are distant but clear behind him, and they speak before he leaves. 

“I apologize if I overstepped the boundaries of our friendship. Although I maintain that she was cute and into you. You should have asked her to dance.”

Blaine pauses with his hand on the doorknob.

“There’s no dancing. Stop helping. What’s with the two of you and helping? I knew I shouldn’t have told you. I should’ve just listed every annoying thing you do; like the emotional range from ‘mildly amused’ to ‘mildly put out,’ and the royal trivia too boring to make an almanac, and the weird obsession with ladies’ power ballads, and that look of concern we all you know practice in the mirror for whenever you and Blaine ‘help’ whoever seems pathetic enough to set you off. _That’s_ why we wouldn’t work.”

“I’m glad we’re friends, too,” Wes says fondly.  

Blaine is careful to make no noise as he lets himself out.

Sam is right in his suspicions that everything between Wes and Santana isn’t as it seems. Dating Wes would give Santana the fame she has often said she wants, but she’d be publicly dragged out of the closet eventually, and right now she won’t even tell Blaine the truth despite how amazingly supportive he would be. Blaine won’t reveal her secret to Sam, and he won’t force the conversation even though he could be her personal cheerleader through sexual self-discovery, but maybe Kurt will know what Blaine can do for her instead.

***

Kurt feels more foolish the longer the wait for Blaine to come back yet again goes on. His disappointment-fueled anger is inexplicable even to himself. Blaine not wanting him was always an option. He didn’t even give Blaine the opportunity to reject him: he didn’t ask. He spent weeks warning himself he couldn't back out, and he still failed to say what he meant to.

Maybe the half glass of stolen champagne turned in his stomach and is to blame. He feels ill. Unsettled. It’s too warm in the venue hall.

Maybe his own dreams turned in his head. He thought he wanted Blaine so badly that he twisted reality to fit his fantasies.

“Let’s go home.”

“You don’t want to stay until the end?” Rachel asks. The crowd is thinning, but the party if far from over. “But what about Prince Blaine?”

Kurt gives his head a nearly imperceptible shake. He’s done heeding Blaine’s requests to stay all night. He’ll make his apologies later from the distance a phone screen affords.

On the ride home, Kurt lets Rachel and her dads carry the conversation. Rachel takes her best friend duties seriously enough to let him have his weird mood without prodding, but not without more sympathetic looks than he can bear.

He had everything he could have wished for. He had the dream come true for the night - lavish social gathering, an invitation from the royal family, more attention from the prince than anyone should expect even if it was less than he’d like - but it was just a moment. Now it’s over.

Maybe he wanted too much.

He turns the gift box from Blaine over in his hands. He has a brooch and a picture taken on Rachel’s phone as mementos to prove to himself later that this evening existed. Rachel captions the picture with _You look so good together!_ Kurt looks coltish and ghost pale. Blaine looks like a dream.

He feels a rush of uncharitable irritation. Blaine is once again sillier and younger-acting than Kurt predicts, unlike the image he projects. He either doesn't grasp consequences or doesn't grasp that they apply to him.

And Kurt is hopelessly in love anyway. 

***

“Where did he go?” Blaine asks Sam. Passersby frequently hinder Blaine’s search, but he has yet to see Kurt. “I asked him to wait.”

Blaine struggled to tap down his dismay. It’s been too long to keep up a flawless public performance; he’s starting to lose control of his emotions. He wanted a goodbye. He thought Kurt would wait.

Sam helps him look, but they quickly realize that Kurt is nowhere to be found.

“Did I scare him off?” Blaine asks.

“What did you do?”

Blaine bites his lip.

“There’s your answer.”

They’re friends. Friends can confide in each other. Perhaps he was more frank with Kurt than he would be with someone else he interacted with in person a grand total of three times, and far more so than Emma would ever want him to be, but he and Kurt filled the year with messages that reaffirmed in Blaine’s mind that Kurt is meant to be a dear friend. 

Reflexes take over and he politely bids farewell to everyone who stops for one last word while he barely registers what happens. When the last person is gone, Blaine looks around the empty room in loss.

***

Kurt lies in bed unable to sleep. He checks the time. It’s well past midnight. He kicks sheets to the foot of his bed and stares at the ceiling and wills his mind to stop obsessing over his evening as a guest of the prince.

He felt foolish for staying and now he feels foolish for leaving. 

He’s not going to stop pining because Blaine doesn’t want him. That, apparently, doesn’t go away. Pining for Blaine is a constant in his life. Kurt wants to be loved by someone who is kind and shares some of his interests, which doesn’t seem like much to ask but are virtually nonexistent characteristics in Kurt’s world. He believed Blaine could give him that, because Blaine gives him so much already, and has since before they met. Kurt admires and respects Blaine and on some days he owes his happiness to Blaine’s coming out video. On his worst days, Blaine is the best thing in his life. Blaine shows up in a news article and it’s like the sun peaking through the clouds.

As mortified as Blaine made him feel, there’s only so long he can sulk about ranking lower in Blaine’s interest than a masturbatory aid, and he can’t bring himself to stay angry that the boy he believed in – the boy who made his life bearable – really is just a boy. The anger that remains is directed at himself for missing his opportunity to be honest with Blaine, even though it’s unlikely to come to the end Kurt wants. And for volunteering to help Blaine and running away instead.

He can’t believe he has guilt over a vibrator he’s not even using.

Kurt finds himself getting dressed to go out. He sneaks down the stairs and out to his car. The sleazy neon light next to the highway guides him to the adult shop when he goes to pick up Blaine’s request he promised and then ran away from.

Kurt’s sense of shame has been whittled down over the years – performing in malls and nursing homes does that to a person – but a _sex shop_ is different in its breed of shame. He has lived in this small town all his life and he knows too many people in it: statistically and laws-of-the-universe-speaking, someone he knows will be there. He pictures the horror of running into neanderthal thugs from high school or his choir teacher or Finn and he dons an oversized pair of sunglasses on in the middle of the night just in case.

Thankfully, the shop is open 24 hours a day, although Kurt can't imagine who else could have late night, time sensitive emergencies involving adult shop products. Do maids of honor routinely not plan appropriately for bridal showers? 

He holds his head high as he enters. He has walked into the women’s department and picked out clothes for himself – he’s not going to let some potential judgment dissuade his purchasing decisions.

Like most shops in Lima, it’s a combination of rundown and quirky. Like Lima in general, Kurt wants out as soon as possible. He’s on a mission. He tries not to giggle to himself about how he’s _serving_ his country. He needs a limit on puns. It’s late and his emotions have run the gamut tonight and if he starts giggling he might not stop, and then he’d have to call Rachel and her dads to come pick him up from a sex shop for causing a scene. This isn’t something he can squeal about with his friend. He keeps secrets, a rare skill among his peers, but he itches for a way to verbally process buying a masturbatory aid for to object of his pervasive affection.

As much as he would love to get out of the shop as soon as possible and get back to Blaine, Kurt squints one eye shut and pulls out his phone to do his research.

By the time Kurt makes it back to the venue hall, there are no guests and no decorations left. Blaine and the opportunity are gone.

He checks the time on the phone, and he shouldn’t be surprised.

He stands in the parking lot for a moment before deciding he can’t give up yet. The distance to the capitol is far enough to feel like it’s not in the same world he struggles to fit into. Two hours later, when the sun is threatening to rise, Captain Beiste waves him through the palace gate.

The longer Kurt waits for Blaine to come down the palace steps and respond to the message Kurt asked Captain Beiste to leave with him, the more he worries that Captain Beiste is going to say he's unwanted and throw him out.  

Kurt sees Blaine before Blaine sees him. The prince stifles a yawn on the trek down the palace steps. He looks like he has a Valentine’s Day hangover with his rumpled hair and heavy coat over lounge pants and slippers made to look like loafers in place his formal wear, but Blaine greets Kurt with a shout and a smile.

“I thought you disappeared on me!” He stops short of another enveloping hug, hesitation showing through his faltering step. “I can’t believe you came all this way.”

Kurt fumblingly shoves the package at him.  “It’s what you asked for.” He blushes furiously. He can barely stand to look at the box or Blaine, but he manages.

Blaine blinks and tilts his head. “How did it go?”

“I only saw two people I knew, so I'm calling that progress.”

Blaine runs a hand over his escaping curls, sheepish but with his bright smile charming as ever. “I hope you weren't too embarrassed on my half.” 

“Well, one was my cashier.”

“I'm so sorry!”

“I'm not going to start caring what he thinks of me now. It’s fine.” Kurt surprises himself by meaning it. Despite the nerves and the mortification, he survived, and he got what he wanted. Or at least what Blaine wanted. Kurt wants to get his feelings for Blaine off his chest, and making good on his promise to Blaine is like a warm up for his anxiety. If he can get through this, he can get through opening up about how much Blaine means to him and how badly he wishes they were together.  

“Can I?” Blaine shuffles the paper aside and peeks inside the package before Kurt can respond.

Kurt assumed when he discretely wrapped it that Blaine would wait to examine his purchase, but he’s not about to tell an excitable prince – bouncing on his heels, no less – how to behave. Blaine’s careful with the paper, at least, unsticking the tape to peer under the lid.

Blaine stares. Kurt hasn’t seen this much rapid blinking since Tina discovered Mike’s abs. Kurt panics briefly that he misheard Blaine, who probably asked for some completely innocent item that only _rhymes_ with vibrator.

“It’s…” Blaine swallows audibly. “Big.”

“Oh, I….” Kurt feels the blush creeping up. Realization of his mistake hits and makes him feel like the biggest unintentional creep in the field of sex toy shopping for others: Blaine asked for average and Kurt carefully tried to make sure he followed those instructions, but when picking out size and shape he only had himself as a tangible point of comparison. He just gave Blaine a replica of his dick.

Kurt had two options: die of mortification on the spot, or press on so he can say what he came all this way to say. He’s not giving up this time.

“I can exchange –”

“It’s fine! Fantastic, even!” Blaine clutches the bag protectively to his chest.

“If you don’t…” Kurt’s hands fall uselessly. He’s not going to take it _back_. He’s not getting into a tug-of-war over this. “Sorry.”

“I’m sure it’s perfect. Thank you.” Blaine flashes a winning smile.

Kurt is reminded of writing thank you letters to distant relatives each Christmas and telling the giver similar words about whatever he received, as well as _I’ll put it to good use_.

He swallows the giggle that threatens to rise. The picture of the prince putting his gift to good use is going to haunt his dreams.

Blaine looks up from his package at Kurt’s silence. “Kurt, if I did or said something to make you uncomfortable...”

Kurt steels himself for finally taking the opportunity presented.

“I want to be honest with you. That's what I admired most about your _It Gets Better_ video: how real it seemed. I could tell you meant every word. I was having a hard time with bullies, and school, my dad, everything. You make me want to let my dad and my friends in more. You gave me someone to believe might understand me. Rachel and I became friends over you.You were the one thing I knew could make me happy. Maybe that's the issue, that there's no way for me to mean as much to you as you mean to me."

"Kurt...." Blaine’s eyes are wide and wet with empathy, reassurance a breath away. They've never talked about how Blaine wedged his way into Kurt’s heart so completely before they ever met. “You mean –”

“At the gala, I thought you might have wanted me there as more than friends.” The words come out in a rush. Kurt holds his head high and prepares for rejection.

Blaine’s eyes are wide on Kurt. “Oh. Wow.”

“I don’t think I’m subtle,” Kurt says mildly, falling back on humor to ease both their nerves. “I wanted to tell you on Valentine’s Day. I’m a little late.” ~~~~

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

Kurt lets out the break he’s been holding. He holds as stiff as possible while he waits for Blaine to find the words to let him down.

“This is the moment I wanted. This is the direction I wanted to go in, at least.” Blaine sounds heartbroken, genuine confusion in his furrowed brow as he looks up pleadingly for Kurt to understand. “I would love to be in love. But my life is complicated, and messy, and very, very public. I value what we have so much. I already thought I lost you, and it has been a miserable night, and there’s a million things that could chase you away. I don't want to lose you again.”

Kurt could argue for Blaine to reconsider. Blaine seems conflicted enough that he might. Kurt chooses to be kind even as he feels himself get close to tears. “Our friendship isn't conditional upon your response, unless you're about to say you don't want to be friends, and then I guess it has to be.” He gives a smile with his forced joke.

“Whatever happens, I want us to be friends.” It doesn’t seem like a line. Blaine reaches for his hand. “Keep waiting for me?”

Kurt almost laughs at the familiar request.

“Is this one of those _prove yourself_ missions?” Kurt’s shoulders dip coyly.

“That you’re good at waiting?” Blaine blinks at the question. “Um. Are you asking if I want you to woo me?”

Kurt nods. “It’s just an offer.”

“I’d like that. But, like, a low stakes wooing.”

“Wooing on the casual side,” Kurt agrees too readily. “Friendly wooing. Totally low-key.”

Blaine’s smile alone is worth the trip. It’s not the answer he hoped for, but Kurt is an expert at proving himself.

***

Blaine stashes the package after Kurt leaves, but he can’t stand being alone in his room. Processing his feelings is hardest when he’s left to do it alone.

“Santana, can we talk?” Blaine asks tentatively when he finds her, inexplicably awake despite the late night they had.

Santana scowls in response. “Fucking Wes. I’m going to… Dammit, it’s treason for me to finish that sentence, isn’t it?”

“It’s not about Wes.”

“He said something. I can see it. The two of you are always trying to _help_. It’s like being an obnoxious do-gooder is hereditary. Some people don’t _want_ your help.”

“I overheard something, but it’s not about that,” Blaine admits and is rewarded with a glower. “I want your advice. Okay?”

Santana regards him warily. “What's wrong?”

“My stupid mouth.”

“The kind of stupid that comes from talking to boys?” Santana says knowingly. 

“I'm not stupid 50% of the time,” Blaine protests. He can't always be perfect. His timing for his lapses in judgment is inconvenient at best, and so far tied to seeing Kurt, but he’s working on it. 

“Do I need to do damage control? Does Emma need to do damage control?”

He can trust Kurt. He's still certain of that much. Instead he asks, “How do you always know what you want?”

“Non-teachable skills. Feel free to list your options and I’ll tell you what I want.”

“What if Kurt’s not the one? Or what if he is, and I scare him away being me? We’ve met, like, three times. Am I supposed to know already? I don’t feel like I know anything. This could be it. This could be that defining moment that sets marriage equality in motion. I have to get it right.”

Blaine rubs the back of his neck. He's completely lost.  Even Santana is looking at him in pity, which seems to be a new emotion for her.

“Do other people feel like this? Like you could screw everything up with one wrong move? Kurt is great, he's perfect, and I feel like I've known him for years. It should be so easy.”

“If you don't feel something, do the kind thing and put him down.”

But Kurt looks even younger than Blaine, not like a man who will propose instantly and then be up for the challenge of the public life Blaine has in mind for them. Blaine feels terrible thinking it, and can’t bear to say it aloud, but Kurt doesn’t fit the future he pictured. Blaine doesn’t have a fully formed picture of the man he’ll marry or anything, but definitely older. Old enough to want to move quickly to wedding bells, not tiptoe through puppy love. Someone who will challenge Blaine to stop acting so young. Extroverted enough not to find Blaine’s social life exhausting. Confident enough not to be afraid of the king. Kurt’s not the kind of man he could impress his overly serious grandfather with. The king wouldn’t see the charm in Kurt’s gracelessness or his silly sense of humor when nervous.

In the face of his grandfather’s doubt, he has to be sure.

And yet. His overwhelming affection for Kurt only grows. His grandfather may not fall for Kurt’s charms, but Blaine could if he allowed himself. How to be sure unless he takes a chance?

“I do. Feel something. Or I could. I really could. How do I know?” Blaine asks.

Santana isn’t the kind to offer physical comfort. She rests her hand alongside his. “Does he like you?”

“Yes.”

“Then he’ll wait.”


End file.
